Moonlite All-Nite Diner
by rhythm-within
Summary: The boys are on their way to Tucson when they make an accidental stop in Night Vale


"Moonlite All-Nite Diner," Dean reads out loud, seeing the sign in the distance. "Sam, it's three AM. When else am I ever going to be able to get pie at three AM?"

The tape player fuzzes out and stops completely, ejecting the tape. "What the hell?" Dean mutters.

"I don't know, Dean. Anywhere? Seriously. I don't want to stop. We're like five miles from Tucson," Sam protests, slowing as they draw closer anyway. Dean tries to shove the plastic square of music back in a few times, mashing buttons on the dash furiously, to no avail. He turns the radio on and a man's voice crackles through the station. He turns the volume down and focuses back on Sam.

"Sam. Pie. Three AM. What's not to love?"

_This town_, Sam wants to protest but he knows that he's been beat. He puts on the blinker and pulls into the empty parking lot. "Are you sure about this?"

"Worried about your womanly curves there, Sammy. You can stay out here if you want."

"I could go for a little pick-me-up," he admits, shutting the car off, feeling oddly bereft when the soft voice on the radio dies with the loud engine.

Dean barges through the door and the place is as empty on the inside as it is on the outside. Sam sees his shoulders twitch in hesitation before his resolve hardens and he marches straight for one of the red vinyl bar stools. Admittedly, their track record with seemingly empty diners is not exactly spotless. They sit in silence for a few minutes before Dean clears his throat and calls out.

"Anybody here?"

Not a second later, a small woman with an unremarkable face pushes her way through the kitchen door. She is barely tall enough to see over the counter and she says nothing, just waits.

"Uh," Dean's face goes a little red and he averts his eyes up to an antiquated menu above her head, "You have any pie?" She says nothing but Dean can't bring himself to ask her again or even yell at her. "And a coffee for him?"

She spins on her heel and disappears into the blackness of the kitchen. They exchange glances, trying to determine if they should just leave or not. They decide to stay just a few more minutes and the woman returns. She has a plate and a coffee cup. There is no pie and no coffee; just the fork on the plate and the spoon on the saucer. She stares at them, waiting, after she places the dishware in front of them. Sam feels a sense of panic as he reaches for the cup, hoping if he puts on a show like he's playing tea with a small child she'll disappear and they can make a speedy get away without having to unexpectedly stab someone. The cup is warm and he puts it up to his lips, tilting it delicately up like he would with real coffee. Except it _is_ real coffee. A splash of hot liquid hits his tongue, burning like real coffee, and he slammed the cup back onto the saucer. The woman slides a container of sugar packets toward him. He nods and smiles, looking back at Dean who is still staring at his pie slice.

"Eat it," Sam grits out as he reaches for the container, hoping to hell that only Dean heard him. The fear in Dean's eyes is real as he picks up the fork and makes like he's cutting into an ordinary slice of pie. There is the usual resistance and he brings the forkful up to his mouth, shoveling it in. His eyes widen in shock when he chews and actually registers a taste.

"Strawberry!" Dean exclaims.

The woman nods and turns. Sam thinks he hears a hawk cry as she moves away.

"What the _fuck?_" Dean murmurs to Sam around a mouthful of invisible pie.

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Sam tries to keep his voice low.

"We should probably leave…"

"You think?"

Dean digs through his wallet, pulling out a five and leaving it on the table before they both tiptoe out of the restaurant.

"We've seen some weird shit," Dean starts, the minute he thinks they're out of ear shot of the whole restaurant, "But _that_, right there, that was _fucked_ up."

"No kidding," Sam rolls his eyes and speed-walks to the driver's side. He's panicked and he jingles the key set around before finally picking out the right key for the ignition. The car won't start. There isn't even a sound; the battery is completely dead.

"No, no, _no_," Dean is already racing to the hood, throwing the heavy metal up as fast as he could. "Don't _do_ this to us now, Baby," his eyes are traveling over the battery, reconnecting the positive and the negative, wiggling them around in the dim, greenish light. He peers up, looking for the streetlight but notices there aren't any. All the light is from the moon—the green moon. Sam notices his gaze and gets out of the car, eyes already up before he knows what it is. He's expecting a helicopter or UFO. He does not expect to see the moon with such a sickly hue.

"What the hell?" Sam says, breaking Dean's concentration on the night sky.

"You ever see the moon look like that?" Dean sounds dazed.

"No. I've seen it orange and eclipsed…I have no explanation for _that_."

"You think…maybe," Dean scratches the back of his neck, "_that's_ why the car died?"

"Uh…" Sam leaves his mouth open, to mock Dean just a little. "_No_."

"Fuck. Try crankin' 'er up again."

Sam ducks back in and gives it a go. It sounds like it's going to start, just for a brief second, and the voice is back on the radio. It fills Sam's head as he tries to pump the gas and get the engine to turn. It dies.

"Fucking hell. We got jumper cables but who the fuck are we gonna get to jump the car out here?" Dean asks, slamming the hood a little harder than necessary and glancing around just in case there are any other people out; there's not a single other car around and the only thing on the road is the dust.

"Well, we're certainly not asking that lady in there," Sam jerks his head towards the diner as he pops out of the car. "Maybe we ought to just, you know, book a room for the night, take it to a mechanic when the sun is actually up."

Dean looks uneasy.

"Are you sure that's the best idea?"

"What else can we do at this point? It's 3 AM, remember?"

"Do you think Cas can fix cars?" Dean says offhandedly, earning a withering look from Sam.

"I really _don't_ know."

"We should call him."

"Okay," Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket. No signal. "You have any signal?"

Dean wipes his hands on his pants before retrieving his phone. "That's a negative, Ghost Rider."

"Well, maybe we can use the landline at the hotel."

"Do you _see_ a hotel?" Dean gestures around them, getting frustrated. Sam isn't in the mood to deal with it.

"We aren't too far from the interstate. There has to be a hotel nearby."

They walk down the block, past a grocery store—Ralph's—and find a Comfort Inn.

"Good enough for you?" Sam asks, rearranging his backpack over his shoulder before they go inside the lobby.

"I don't think I have much choice," Dean pulls a face and walks into the lobby like a storm cloud.

Immediately, the hotel is oppressive. The darkness feels like it's trying to claw at the one little light above the front desk, and, despite the late hour, the woman behind the counter is busy with paper work.

"Hey, there," Dean smiles his disarming, full-toothed grin at her peripheral vision.

She spins on them and her forehead blinks. _Wait, no. What?_

Sam stays back, behind Dean, trying not to look obvious as he continues to stare at her. She is young—mid-twenties—and quite pretty. She blushes, obviously aware of the attractiveness of both brothers.

"Hello," she smiles, all lips. Sam swears there was something off about her teeth but her mouth wasn't open long enough to tell for sure.

"Do you have any rooms?"

"Sure do!" She perked right up, pulling out a ledger. "What would you like? We have singles, doubles, patios _sans_ blood stones, patios with blood stones—"

"I'm sorry," Dean interrupts her, "Did you say _'blood stones'?_"

"Oh yes! Complimentary. Some guests prefer their own private blood stones to the common area one by the pool."

"Uh," Dean turns to Sam who has a frozen look on his face. He isn't even sure how Dean is taking it but he has no idea what to say or if she is even serious. "Could we just get a double. Uh. _Sans_ blood stone."

"You got it! Ooze free?"

"Ah, yes. Preferably."

"All righty! Here's your room key and room," she says, holding out the paper sleeve with the information and keys inside. "Make sure to pronounce these words very carefully before entering!" she points at a set of words that look a lot like Latin at the top of the sleeve. Dean takes the package from her and examines the room number at the top. It's not really a number, just an assortment of symbols—none he recognized.

"Where exactly is the room?"

"Oh! First floor, just down that hall. You can't miss it!"

"Thanks," he says, tipping his head up to be polite even though her instructions were not very helpful. He shows the room 'number' to Sam and Sam pulls a face.

"Did you see her forehead?" Sam whispers, low and almost inaudible in Dean's ear.

"You mean the blinking thing?" Dean tries to keep his voice at the same decibel.

"Yes!" Sam exclaims in a harsh whisper at Dean's confirmation, overwhelmingly relieved he's not crazy.

"Shh! Sam!" Dean whispers back. "Just help me find this damn room."

Sam checks the 'number' one more time and sees the matching symbol four doors down. "There it is." He points. They approach the door and stand there for a second, looking at it, feeling its looming presence, as if the peephole were an eye and it could hear their thoughts.

"Do you think we really have to…chant this stuff?" Dean holds up the paper for Sam to see.

Sam shrugs. "It can't _hurt_…I hope." He pulls a face.

"Agor y drws damn." They fumble in unison.

There is a sound like a deadbolt unlocking from inside. Dean shrugs at Sam and takes one of the plastic keys out to swipe through the sensor. The door unlocks and they walk in. The room itself looks normal but it feels…menacing, like it's judging them.

"We need to call Cas in on this." Sam says, not wanting to put his bag down on anything or even touch anything. He gets the impression that if he touches anything he will stick to it forever and it will swallow him whole. "Like, _now_."

"Come on, Sammy. We booked the room already," The radio crackles on and they both stop to look at it. The same voice from earlier and crooning in his dulcet tones. They ignore it. "Can't we sleep for a few hours?"

"Seriously, Dean. You _really_ want to try and sleep here? You're _honestly_ telling me that you think you could take your shoes and pants off, get between the sheets of one of those beds," Sam points harshly, "close your eyes, and wake up exactly where you fell asleep?"

"You make a good point. What do you think Cas is up to at this point?" Dean sets his bag down next to the TV. "Do you think he could find us if we called him? I don't even know where we _are_." He brings the paper up to his face and looks for some indication. "'Comfort Inn.'" He snorts at that. "That's all it says, though. No city, no state, no zip code. Just 'Comfort Inn.'"

"I thought we were in Arizona." Sam adds, unhelpfully.

"Maybe we are? We're definitely in the desert somewhere."

The radio gets inexplicably louder, interrupting them. "_Good_ _night, Night Vale. Good night_."

"What the fuck?" Dean makes a face. "Is that where we are? _Night Vale?_"

Sam shrugs, eyes flicking from Dean's face to the autonomous radio.

"_Dude_," Dean's eyes go big. He whips out his phone.

"What?" Sam moves forward like there will be an answer on the cell phone's tiny screen.

"It just hit me to check and see if there was even service here."

"Yeah?"

"Four bars. So, I guess we're good."

The radio begins to make noises, it sounds like voices played backwards—like the end of that one song by the Beatles. It doesn't stop.

"Huh," Sam forgets himself and slumps on the nearest bed.

"Dude," Dean looks at him and Sam leaps off the comforter like he'd been burned.

"Thanks," Sam scratches the back of his head and bumps into the bureau with the TV on it. The television shakes and Sam finds himself apologizing to it until he realizes that the whole room has begun to shake and all lose items are rattling around.

"What the _fuck?_" Dean exclaims, ducking his head like it would do him any good.

"I think this is an earthquake!" Sam panics. "We've got to get out of here!" He instructs, leaving his bag on the bed and darting out into the hallway to see if anyone has any information on what to do in the event of an earthquake.

There is no one in the hall. No one even making noises in their own rooms. The hall seems peaceful and still even though they can still clearly see the objects jostling inside their own room.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me," Dean says, watching the TV nearly topple over and then suddenly stop. No one came out in to the hallway.

"Do you think no one else is staying here?" Sam asks, eyes darting up and down the hall. He walks a ways, rounds the corner and still sees no one, doesn't hear a thing. "I guess there's no one here." He shrugs, reporting back to Dean as he makes his way back toward the room. Dean is in the doorway, just staring back into it.

"Where _are_ we?" Sam stops short, breathing heavy with the sense of panic swelling up in his throat and chest.

"Do you think this is a _case?_" Dean moves to touch the television, see if it's just really unstable and they didn't just experience an _actual_ earthquake.

"I think we really need to call Cas."

"Right." Dean pulls out his phone and Sam watches him dial. The angel picks up immediately.

"Cas, we need some help—a place called Night Vale? We're not exactly sure where it is—we thought we were in Arizona—Night Vale. That's all I've got—what do you mean? Is there a way to summon you then?—Fine." Dean clamps the phone shut, nonplussed.

"That didn't sound very successful," Sam observed as Dean rushed over to his bag and pulled out the spare container of sheep's blood.

"I have to summon him with a summoning sigil. He can't fucking find the place. Said he was gonna text me a picture of what the sigil looks like."

"You taught the angel to text?"

"Yes, I taught the angel to text. Now, shut up and pull the curtains back." Dean points at the rusty colored drapes at the far end of the room. "Make yourself useful."

"Aye aye, Captain." Sam takes three strides and is across the room, yanking back the canvas material. It is dark through the window; it is not the unlit streets; this darkness is empty, absence. "Dean?"

Dean looks up from his phone, obviously having received the text from Cas.

"Is that outside?" Sam tries not to sound as scared as he feels.

"I…what? _Is_ that outside?" Dean moves over, taps the glass with his pointer finger and makes to try and open it even though it clearly isn't going to happen. They didn't get a room with a patio. "There's no way." He taps at the glass one more time. "I guess it doesn't really matter. We've got to get Cas here."

Sam nods tightly, unable to keeps his eyes off the absolute void he feels swirling outside the window like that thin pane of glass is the only thing keeping his feet on the floor.

Dean dips his fingers in the sheep's blood and starts tracing the geometrical lines on the cool window. It doesn't come with an incantation, Dean just has to press his hand to it once he's finished.

There is the usual whoosh of angel travel behind them and the brothers turn to see the angel looking woozy in the doorway.

"There is something _very_ wrong here," he grits, putting a hand up to his head and looking near to passing out. "I do not even where we are."

"Well, that doesn't bode well," Sam moves to offer support to Castiel if he needs it.

"How did you two arrive here?" Cas squints up at the both of them and Sam side-eyes Dean.

Sam rats Dean out. "_Someone_ wanted pie."

"Wait, how is this _my_ fault? I just saw the stupid sign in the distance. We were already _here_ by that point."

"This is certainly an anomaly. It doesn't…_truly exist_ in time, the way you understand it."

"Then how _did_ we wind up here?" Dean butts in, wiping his fingers on his jeans and Sam pulls a face at him. "What? I didn't want to bother with the sink. Given our luck, it probably runs worms instead of water."

Castiel ignores him and presses on. "That's an excellent question. My guess is the town wanted you here."

"The _town?_ Like, the entire town as _one_ entity?"

"As far as I can tell," Cas looks up at the ceiling as though there is an answer written in the far corner.

"We need to get to a library." Sam says, falling back on what he knows.

"Do you really think there's a library in a place like this?" Dean's tone is a little nasty.

"I don't know!" Sam throws his arms out, offended that Dean would think he knew more about the town than Dean did.

"Plus, even if there was, it's the fucking middle of the night. Do you really think it'd be open?" Dean walked towards them, away from the eerie window.

"We don't fucking know, Dean. That's the whole point. We don't know anything about 'Night Vale.' They could have a library. It could be open all day. Let's just go ask the girl at the front desk."

It seems to be the same girl as before, manning the front desk, but her skin looks grayer and her face looks thinner. They aren't sure.

"Excuse me, Miss," Sam starts out, flashing his Winchester charm, "Is there a public library here?"

She blanches, if that is at all possible.

"P-public library?" She starts and pulls at her shirt sleeve, looking down at some paperwork hidden on the desk below the counter. "Why would you want to go there?" She looked back up, eyes wide.

"Just to get some, you know, information."

"Well, yes. There is a public library," She concedes, eyes averted, "But I wouldn't go there if I were you. The librarians…"

"Is it open right now?"

"It's always open." Her voice sounds like a droid when she says this.

"How do we get there?" Dean butts in, not having the patience to put up with the girl's cagey behavior.

"It's, uh, four blocks east and one block north. Right near the news station…" She doesn't seem happy to give out the information but Dean hastily thanks her and moves away.

"I don't think I like this," Sam says once the three of them make it outside, the green glow from the moon still lingering. _How could the window have been that black then?_

"Oh, now you don't like your own idea?" Dean laughs, looking at Cas for some back up. Cas remains silent. "Look, we'll just swing by the Impala since it's on the way anyway and grab some gear if you're really worried. We can handle some old librarians. We hunt vampires and werewolves for a living."

It should be an indicator of the severity of the situation that Sam was so reluctant to go now that he'd been warned off by the hotel receptionist. Dean pressed on anyway, ignoring the voice that told him to just sit in the Impala until morning.

"Oh, yeah. Cas, can you fix cars? I figured since you can, you know, bring people back from the dead…"

"I can see what I can do," Cas answers curtly, his shoulders looking tighter than usual.

The library is a looming structure, easily six stories, and in a terrible state of disrepair. It certainly doesn't look open. The windows are dark and a storm cloud is forming in the distance above it. There are no streetlights around the looming structure; the only light was from the sickly moon bleeding through the clouds.

Dean grips his machete tighter, glad he also has a short barreled rifle tucked into his belt as well. Sam has two pistols and Cas is…Cas, with an extra pistol just in case. They all hesitate, trying to parse out the figures milling about in the gray fog around the bottom floor of the building. It really looks like they're people but there is no sound and they remain faceless in the distance. They take a few steps forward and the figures seem to move further away. They all feel a chill run through them.

"I seriously do _not_ like this," Dean mutters to Sam and turns to look at Cas who is flanking the two of them.

"But this might be a case…we can find out some information on the town and see if we can help them. They might be cursed."

"I'd say this is _a lot_ more than cursed. This is a whole _Funky Town_ of odds and ends. We shouldn't even _be_ here!"

"I concur, Dean. Sam, this place is dangerous and if my abilities could not extend even to the battery of your car, I don't know how much use I will be in the library." Castiel speaks up, coming in between the brothers.

Sam frowns but doesn't say anything as he makes his way up the smooth, white stone steps to the front. 'Night Vale Public Library.'

"You sure about this, Sammy?"

"We're hunters, aren't we?" Sam rolls his eyes and pushes into the darkness. The doors reveal nothing; it is pitch black inside and the temperature drops to that of a meat freezer.

"Are you _kidding_ me? You've got to be kidding me." Dean gripes, hanging close to Sam but a little farther behind. Castiel is far behind both of them.

The ceiling is high—three stories, by the look of it—and the book shelves extend all the way up.

"Why would they build the book shelves like that?" Dean peers up at one, noticing all the spines proclaiming all the same title. "Wait, are all these books the same?"

Sam and Cas look up.

"Looks like it," Sam makes an ugly face of confusion, "Helen Hunt?" He pulls one book out just a little at his eye level. There seems to be a rumbling from deep inside the library, in a corner none of them can see. Sam puts the book back, wiping the dust off on his pants.

"Do you…do you think that was a librarian?" Sam looks worriedly in the vague direction of the rumbling.

"I hope to _hell_ not," Dean swallows but doesn't elaborate, walking towards the sliding ladder that's attached to the shelves; it goes all the way up. He tries to climb it but when he touches it the rumbling starts up again. Quickly, he hops back down and brandishes the machete, charging foolishly towards the horrible dragon-like sound.

Sam laughs and Dean only responds with "It's time to kick some monster ass." They speed up until they feel the ground shaking like a large creature is ambling towards them.

"Okay, this is not good…" Dean corrects himself. "Cas, you think you can handle whatever this is?"

"I can try."

"That's all we ask, buddy." He swings the iron machete around in his hand. Sam knows Dean is nervous but Cas isn't clued in.

The rumbling was closer and they rounded the corner of a bookshelf. A dark ghost—features obscured in the darkness—stuck its hand through Dean's chest, trying to pull his heart out. Dean reacted on autopilot, arm slashing at it with the machete and causing it to mist out.

"Now there's fucking _ghosts_ too? I did _not_ sign up for this." He spins around and the three of them go on the defensive, backs all to each other in a circle formation. They move closer to the crashing sounds, orbiting around their circle just in case. The ghost reappears in front of Sam who pistol whipped it with one of his Colts; it moved backward and the gun just barely misses.

"Fuck!" Sam yells, taking a step forward and watching the ghost's face catch a ray of moonlight. It smiled at him and he figured it was a woman as he struck her on the top of the head. It disappeared completely this time, giving a shriek in the distance.

They hadn't noticed but the incredible stomping noised had stopped. They had come face to face not with a single large entity, but a mass of humanoid creatures who had been stepping together and causing the clamor in the cavernous hall.

They were wearing spectacles and all of their bottom jaws were too heavy to close their mouths, their tongues lulled out to the side when they weren't spitting at small shadows darting through the bookshelves.

"What the fuck?" Dean felt himself stiffen. There had to be at least a hundred of them. If Cas' angel mojo wasn't working then there was no way the three of them could take on the whole group. "This ain't worth it!"

They all dashed towards the entrance and at once the mob of librarians split apart, pouring into the separate isles. "Fucking run!" Dean shouted, pumping his legs. He hadn't had to haul ass like that in years. They busted outside, threw themselves down the expansive steps, and didn't stop until they made it back to the Impala. Dean tried the engine again but the car was still dead. Instead of going back to the hotel, they unanimously decided to just sit in the car and wait until sunrise so they could maybe get it to a mechanic.

None of them sleep until close to dawn, when their eyes get a little too heavy to keep them open. When dawn starts to break, it sounds like the world is shattering; it was like a giant brass band that was out of tune and scraping their boot heels across giant chalk boards. It went on for an hour before it finally quiets down to a dull hum. The boys do nothing but stare alternately between themselves and the sky.

"Fuck," Dean mutters to himself and tries to turn the key in the ignition one more time, hoping for a miracle. The car starts, roaring like it had never died. "Oh, Baby, Baby, Baby, Baby," Dean coos at the car, his hands caressing the steering wheel. "Let's get the fuck out of here!" He throws the car into reverse and they fishtail out of the parking lot before pulling right out of town on to Route 800.

…

Josie picked up the phone silently when she saw that Cecil was calling her.

"Josie, it's not that I don't support tourism in Night Vale; I really do. I just _really_ can not _stand_ people who just blow in and _aggravate_ the librarians. That is just so rude."

Josie uh-hmm'd.

"I mean, they just want to make people read better. And occasionally disembowel slow moving patrons. But, you know, they can't help their natures."

Josie giggled. "You're very right, Cecil."


End file.
